


MCU Drabble Collection

by chibimono



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Nostalgia, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25086421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibimono/pseuds/chibimono
Summary: These are drabbles collected from LiveJournal between 2011 and 2012. They vary in length, style, and skill. Most revolve around the slash relationship between Steven and Tony, the friendship between Steve and Bucky, or gen-fic with ensemble characters.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Kudos: 2





	1. Cap & Iron Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: Using Cap's comic uniform here instead of the movie!verse one.

“Are you serious?” Tony said, pulling the contents of Steve’s suit from the container. It was in shreds from how they had to remove it from his frozen body, but a person could still tell what each fragment was. “I can’t believe I’m actually holding this. Hn, leather. Cap, I didn’t know you were so kinky.”

Steve couldn’t stop the flare of a flush to his cheeks. “It was durable,” he defended.

Tony poked around at the remains of the uniform.“Oh, but the scale-mail? Really? I thought you fought in 1943, not the Middle Ages. We can do much better than this.”

He tossed the clothing aside and returned to the container, his movements careful and reverent as he brought out the shield. “This... Is this really vibranium?”

“Yes,” Steve smiled, proud of how far that particular piece took him through the war. “Your dad said it was the only bit of it in existence.”

“If I could get my hands on this for Iron Man...” a look of ecstasy flitted across Tony’s face. Steve had the decency to blush and look away.


	2. Steve/Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: discussion of sexual situations (masterbation) and humiliation

“The first time I was, uh, ever... desperate enough to try...” Steve was a furious red, his smile nervous, and his chuckle self-deprecating. “Gosh, it was lights out... And I snuck into the bathroom. Of all the Sisters in the place to do the sweep, it was Sister Francis...”  
  
Tony smirked at the name and took a sip of his scotch. “Let me guess. She was the orphanage hardass?”  
  
Steve ducked his head, but his smile grew despite his embarrassment. “Oh, no. No, Tony, she... Sister Francis was... a knock-out. One of those gals that was... all us boys, we were falling all over her, you know?” Steve swallowed hard. “And I was in that stall, hand in my--” Steve gestured downward, making Tony roll his eyes and laugh “--and it was like... maybe thinking about those long gams of hers hidden under her skirts summoned her to me, like a beacon or something... She dragged me out of there by my ear, and it was all I could do to keep up with her and hold on to my trousers to keep them up from around my knees and hope an asthma attack didn’t hit me in my panic.”  
  
Tony was doubled over laughing, shaking his head. Steve was pretty sure there were tears in Tony’s eyes.  
  
“She pulled me to Mother Margret’s office and smacked the palms of my hands with a ruler while Mother Margret lectured me on how I was too sickly to be such a sinner, and by touching my, uh, I was only going to get sicker. Then they stood over me while I wrote a hundred times--‘My body is a temple. I shall not taint it with unnatural vice.’ I don’t think I was able to look either of those women in the eye again...”  
  
Tony was heaving, choking with laughter, to the point where he had fallen over on his side of the sofa, holding his scotch up in a vain attempt to keep from spilling it. “No wonder you’re a prude! You’ve been traumatized for life!” Tony gasped for breath.  
  
“I’m not a prude,” Steve defended, blushing more if it was possible.  
  
“That charming little story certainly explains some things,” Tony smiled, his hysterics slowly subsiding. He turned an appraising eye on to Steve, and Steve could only look away, biting at his bottom lip nervously. “You know, they had interesting idea. ‘Your body is a temple.’ Being Captain America makes you some sort of deity in American mythology, right? Like, George Washington is king of the American gods. Dubbya could be the god of war, maybe?”  
  
“Wouldn’t I be the god of war in this myth?” Steve asked, grateful for a new topic.  
  
Tony just leered. “I was thinking you’d be the virgin god of sex. I know at least one person that would love to be a naked sacrifice to you on your pantheon’s steps.”  
  
Steve felt a flash fire hit his face and ears as a spike of pleasure dropped down his spine, leaving him completely speechless. He looked to his cup for more Asgardian ale, but found it empty of the nerve-strengthening alcohol.


	3. Howard Stark & Steve Rogers, Tony Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With seeing Howard Stark in the Captain America movie, and then learning how Tony felt his daddy didn't love him but then seeing Howard's SEKRIT MESSAGE to Tony in Iron Man 2, things didn't add up right, so my brain filled in the blanks...

Howard looked and looked for Steve, but eventually was pulled back to assist with the Manhattan project. When America actually dropped the bombs on Japan and Howard saw the devastation, he felt mortified that he was involved in the project and knew that Steve would have been disappointed in him and America for doing that to civilians.  
  
Howard was still contracted to make weapons for the government, so he still had to do the dirty work, but that didn’t stop him from working on energy projects on the side. He let people think he was still into fast cars and fast women, but he tried to distance himself from people so they wouldn’t see how utterly disappointed he was in himself with his weapons, with Japan, with the deaths he believed was on his hands. He still searched for Steve’s when he could, so he could put his friend and hero to rest. He helps found SHIELD with Fury, hoping he could do good things for the country through it, helping to name the organization with Captain America in mind.  
  
He’s getting on in age, maybe in his 60s or so, when his personal assistant passes away. He ends up hiring Maria, a very beautiful and capable woman that’s quite a few years younger than he is. Maybe she’s a little hyper and animated, maybe she’s a hardass, maybe she tries to get Howard to understand what’s done with his weaponry is not his fault. There is something about her that Howard falls in love with.  
  
Maria was a fan of Captain America, stealing her older brothers’ comics and reading them in secret. She goes with Howard when he looks for Steve’s body. Maybe it’s one of the few things they can do together that isn’t work related or maybe it’s the one of the things that Howard can spare the time to spend with her.  
  
Tony comes along as an accident. Howard and Maria get married. And now Howard has two people attached to him that he feels he can’t fail and he doesn’t want to taint them with the blood he still believes is on his hands. So he throws himself into his projects with energy, hoping to dwarf the arms race with something positive, something that he can redeem himself with. Something that would make Captain America proud of him again, if Steve was still alive.  
  
But the name Stark is always associated with weapons, and Tony grows up knowing this and believing in this and creating things with weapons in mind, and Howard doesn’t know what to do other than feel disappointed that he let Tony think this. And it just comes out to Tony that Howard is disappointed in him.  
  
The only thing that Howard ever managed to bond with Tony over is Captain America. Maria would read her pilfered comics to her son as bedtime stories and tell Tony of how his dad worked with Captain America way back when. And Tony would ask and ask and ask so many questions about Cap and Howard would actually spare the time to tell Tony anything he could because it was something he could give Tony that was positive and good, because that’s what Steve was.  
  
Howard never hated Tony. Tony was the greatest thing that ever happened to him. He just didn’t know how to show it to Tony.


	4. Steve-Centric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers, and how he is such a cheerful morning person.

> _Oh, what a beautiful morning!  
>  Oh, what a beautiful day!  
> I have a wonderful feeling  
> Everything's going my way!_

  
Steve was sick often when he was little. Asthma, rheumatic fever, heart problems, he was quite a mess. When waking up was difficult for him, whether to take his medicine or to bundle him away for someone to watch him while she went to work, his mama would sing the little song for him. She sang it to him to get him up for school or for church, no matter the weather outside.  
  
When his mama passed away, it was hard to wake up in the mornings. But humming the song to himself seemed to at least get him to trudge through the motions and start his day. After Bucky came to live at the orphanage, he wanted to know what Steve hummed every day, and so Steve taught Bucky. They would sometimes sing it together in the morning, to the dismay of the other boys bunking with them. The cheerful song became a regular tune for Steve's friend when he was in a good mood, Bucky crooning it through the halls of the orphanage, making Steve smile.  
  
The song got him through the mornings in boot camp for the SSS project. It kinda got stuck in his head every time Peggy looked his way. It was stuck in his head the whole way on the fateful day of the experiment.  
  
With all the pains and aches gone, mornings were easier. His revamped biological clock made waking up a breeze. But he still started the day with his little song. Deep inside, he kind of felt like his mama was watching over him every time he heard it.


	5. Steve & Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Howard and Maria’s car accident happens while Tony is just a baby. And his guardian ends up being Obadiah. Except Obie is too interested in taking over Stark Industries than he is in being a part of Tony’s little life. And Obie gets a little too involved with selling weapons under the table to terrorists, and when he can’t provide what one sleeper cell specifically asks for, they kidnap little kiddo Tony. Unfortunately for the terrorists, Captain America was found and thawed just a few years earlier and comes to the rescue of his old friend’s son. In the process, he unravels that Obie is the cause for Tony’s situation and does his damnedest to make him pay. And then becomes Tony’s legal guardian. And as Tony grows up with his Uncle Steve, who is Captain America, all he wants is to be a hero just like Steve. This drabble is pretty much an older Tony, who finally gets to be a hero with his Uncle Steve.

Captain America dismissed the Avengers assembled around him and watched them take to the sky or bound across the rooftops. The only one that stayed was Iron Man.  
  
"Need a lift back, Cap?" Steve could almost hear the grin of the young hero through the sterile voice of the armor. "May I do the honors of giving you a piggyback ride? It’s only fair."  
  
The corner of Steve’s mouth faltered into half a smile. "Because I gave you so many?"  
  
"Yeah," and then the face plates slid way from Tony’s young face and he’s all smiles. "You know, like how you changed my diapers, and I’ll probably change yours, old man?"  
  
Steve snorted. "I’m walking away now."  
  
There was a whine and flare of sound from repulsors and then Tony’s in his way. "Okay, so not a piggyback ride. But I’ll carry you back to base. Please?" He’s so earnest and eager, like how he showed Steve all his science projects and report cards and anything else he could get Steve’s attention with. Look, Uncle Steve! See!  
  
"Fine. Let’s go."  
  
And Tony whooped like college kid at a football game, flung his arm around Cap’s waist, gave a wild grin before shutting his face place, and shot off into the air like a rocket. Loop-de-loops, barrel rolls, wide banked turns, and nothing but blue skies as far as the eyes could see.  
  
_Tony, you can do whatever you want. The sky’s the limit. And I’ll be right there with you._  
  
Then one day, we’re gonna fly, Uncle Steve!


	6. Cap & Iron Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to put vampires in the Marvel movie!verse and have Steve and Tony battle with them. Basically, a vampire attacks Steve and his super soldier blood kinda makes a super vampire or something. Also, Tony’s arc reactor kinda works so if a vampire gets a mouth full of him, it’s like drinking pure sunshine. Somewhere along the line, Tony makes a harness for Steve that houses a reactor and pumps the reactor’s energy through his veins to keep the bastards from getting super off him. Here's some back and forth battling and Tony’s dying and Steve reviving him.

Tony can feel it in the way he’s shoved. He can see it in the rippling muscles that grab him and throw him down again, in the punch aimed at his face. He’s no match without his armor.  
  
*  
  
They swarm Cap like the shadows in the dark halls, but the light at his chest brightened the way, lit up their faces, showing snarls and bared fangs. He shifted his shoulders, unused to the reactor harness, and readied for the first attempt to strike. It’s one from behind that lunged at him and was stupid enough to bite. The pain seared along Cap’s neck and he growled, moved to swing. But nothing was there as the reactor attached to him did it’s job, pumping the equivalent of liquid sunshine into the fools mouth and let him burst into embers of undead ash. None of the others are stupid enough to make the same mistake, but now they know what needs to be done.  
  
*  
  
This was the one that had gotten to Steve that night. Tony felt it in every ache and bruise. This is the same bastard that went for Steve in the dark when Steve was just trying to help. This is the one that succeeded in taking something from Steve that no one had managed before. And now he was just playing with Tony.  
  
*  
  
The ballroom was open enough space, room to let his shield go and walls and columns enough to ping it off of. They poured in after him like dancers at a dark hall, jumping and moving against each other. They gravitated to him, the arc reactor shining on his chest like a strobe light at ground level, it’s light stuttering with his movements and the others around him clawing at the beam. They won’t get the harness off; Cap won’t let them.  
  
*  
  
Tony’s head bounced off the tiled grid of his testing floor, his eyes fluttering in a dazed pain. He was easily pinned and he cursed himself. From where he lay, he could turn his head and see the half repaired parts of Iron Man scattered in a disassembled heap. If only he had more time, it wouldn’t have been this easy for the bastard to take him down.  
  
*  
  
The countdown was nearly over. Steve could tell by the slow but practically steady receding of the ranks around him. Dawn was coming and Steve felt like he might be able to breathe again as the crush of bodies slacked off.  
  
*  
  
This was just to keep Tony from being in the way. Distracting the distraction. The bastard didn’t need to get to Steve anymore; he already had what he wanted. Tony groaned and struggled, attempting to break the pin. The bastard only laughed, fangs shining against the florescent lighting. His hand went to Tony’s chest, pulling apart his shirt with one strong hand. Panic flooded Tony, sparking a renewed struggle. The bastard knew, when the glow of Tony’s reactor lit up his eyes, the quickest way to take Tony down. A quiet click of the release and Tony’s fight faded with his strength as night eased into the beginnings of dawn.  
  
*  
  
The last of them had seemed to flee as Jarvis flung all the window shades open to greet the impending dawn.  
  
Steve breathed a heavy sigh and shouldered his shield. "Tony, how you doing down there?" he asked into his comm. When no response came in thirty seconds, he toggled on the comm again. "Tony?" The line remained silent.  
  
"Jarvis, where is he?" he asked, racing to the doors of the ballroom.  
  
"Mr. Stark is in his workshop. Vital signs are failing. Immediate assistance is required."  
  
Steve’s boots were sure as he ran, not faltering even as his breath had at the information. He took the nearby service stairwell, hoping the rails for each flight until he made it to the sub-basement.  
  
"Jarvis! Open it!" Steve yelled, yanking at the door handle to Tony’s workroom. The sturdy lock released and allowed Steve in to the testing area of the shop. Motionless droids stood along the walls, as silent and powerless as the form laid out on the tiled floor.  
  
Steve was on his knees, looking over the pale, ashen features, the dark gaping hole in Tony’s chest. Steve worked fast at shedding his gloves to find a pulse. Nothing. No light at all.  
  
"No..."  
  
He pulled at the harness around his shoulders, fumbled at the release to the reactor that sat heavily in front of his chest. It disconnected easily, the humming in his veins fading to silence, as he pulled the reactor free. He eased it into Tony’s chest, turning it until it clicked into place, and watched the light brighten and the core beat at a naturally synced rhythm.  
  
But there was no answering gasp, no color, no light in Tony’s half lidded eyes.  
  
"No."  
  
No pulse still.  
  
"No!"  
  
First aide training had always been necessary for a soldier, but at this point, it never seemed so important. Chest compression, two, three, four, five--twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty. Nothing. He tilted Tony’s head back and breathed into him, willed life into him. Nothing.  
  
"Tony! Please!"  
  
Chest compressions. Breathe. Nothing.  
  
"I won’t let you die! You gave me your heart!"  
  
Compressions. Breathe. No.  
  
"I won’t let you die because of me!"  
  
Press. Air. Cough.  
  
Tony was coughing. Steve rolled him onto his side to keep him from choking and pressed his forehead against Tony’s shoulder blade.  
  
"A..ll... g.o..ne...?" Tony gasped.  
  
"Yeah, before the sun rose," Steve panted against Tony’s back, his hand fisting in the shirt covering the small of Tony’s back. He pressed his ear to Tony’s back to hear the beat of his heart, the whirring of the reactor.  
  
"J-Ja..r.vis..?"  
  
"I called the medical squad, sir. They should be here momentarily."  
  
"Up.. s-stai..rs.." Tony slurred.  
  
Steve didn’t question him, just pulled him into his arms and carried him to the elevator.


	7. Bucky & Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for animal abuse and a beaten-up pre-serum Steve

Bucky’s half way through his dinner of a can of beans when he heard a thump on the door. He checked the clock and sighed at the late hour. It had to be Steve, though his shift was over an hour ago. Maybe he forgot his keys? There was a sound against the door, like shifting or sliding, and Bucky dropped his spoon into the can.

"Steve?" he called as he stepped up to the door, listening. When a low groan was the only response, Bucky unbolted the door and wrenched it open. Steve, sitting on the floor against the door, slumped into the tiny apartment.

“Dammit, Steve,” Bucky sighed, pulling at Steve’s jacket, his clothes, dragging Steve up against him to get him out of the hall. Steve’s head lulled against Bucky’s shoulder, his mouth bruised and blood spattered at his nose and brow. He tried to smile, but his lip split and it was just easier to grimace.

“A’most f’rgot yer din’r,” Steve tried to say without moving his swollen jaw. He shifted a bag in his arms, weakly edging it to Bucky.

“Already ate,” Bucky said, laying Steve on the cold wood floor to shut and bolt the door. He turned to find Steve curling on his side, withering like a little leaf in his pain. “What the hell, Steve? Why didn’t you just go to the hosp-”

“No, Buck…” Steve groaned, breathing heavy through his mouth, teeth still clenched. “Still payin’ fer th’ las’ visit…”

Bucky frowned, kneeling at his friend’s side. “I can eat beans for a while longer. But you keep this up, all you’ll be able to handle is milktoast again.” He hauled Steve to a standing position, gritting his teeth against the sound of his pained whimpers. Bucky got Steve’s arm over his shoulder, feeling Steve’s bruised fingers bite into him, gripping tightly in counterpoint to the pressure of the other arm Bucky put around Steve’s side.

“So, what was it this time?” Bucky asked, shuffling to Steve’s single bed in the corner and laying him out. He was used to this; to untying Steve’s shoes and pulling them off, to working Steve’s belt or suspenders from his pants, to taking off his button-up shirt. How many times had Steve staggered home from a fight he didn’t need to be in because he heard someone scream or saw someone flinch in his line of sight. He’d taken the beatings meant for dames from abusive sweethearts. He’d taken the punishment aimed for crying children when their drunken parents wanted to make a point. He stood between hobos and the upper class that felt like scuffing their shoes on them. Those weren’t even Steve’s fights, but the rascal wouldn’t walk on by.

“Damn drunk…” Steve muttered, trying to sit up and help with his clothes. “Beatin’ on th’ ol’ stray dog wha hangs ‘round th’ parkin’lot… Poor pooch…”

Bucky rolled his eyes and sighed, hoping it hid the wince his heart made. He’d seen that dog—all mange and bones but friendly and proud. So much like Steve. “For chrissakes, Steve. Now you’re taking up for animals? I have yet to see one bigger than you. You gonna defend the whole stray populous of Brooklyn now?”

“If is’s wha’ it takes,” Steve tried nodding, but just flopped backwards.

“I swear, between your beatings and the headache you give me, there isn’t enough painkillers in this world to handle you,” Bucky said in fond exasperation as he tucked Steve in and went to fetch the aspirin and some water for Steve to wash it down.


	8. Cap & Iron Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for falling from extreme heights. There's a rescue, so no injuries.

The anticipation of it all would make his knees give if he wasn’t so eager for it. It’s a rush of adrenaline, a giddy, rippling feeling through his limbs that makes his heart pound. His breathing picks up before he even starts running. The sun-baked roof of Stark Tower is solid under his boots and the winds at this altitude whip at him, tug at him like they want to veer him off his course. But the edge is in sight and the plunge is waiting for him.

He doesn’t stop at the edge to look down, doesn’t care what’s below. He just runs and he springs into the air on his final step, leaping into midair, spiralling into a freefall. He spreads out in the air feels it rush past him with a whistle in his ears. His eyes slip closed and he just lets go, arms relaxing against his sides, decreasing the drag somewhat so he slices through the sky all that much faster.

He doesn’t care about the ground below, doesn’t worry about opening his eyes. He’s free like this, freer than he could ever be on solid ground. Because in the fall, he’s as human as everyone else and the only conflict he has is with gravity. And gravity always wins.

Except not. Because the street noises are becoming closer, but the whine of firing repulsors is closer still. And wind chilled metal is cradling him, taking him through an arced sweep to avoid the deadly whiplash of a direct catch. By the sounds of a crowd below, they swing low over the street and then back up into the air, back to the top again.

He’s easily put back on his feet before he finally opens his eyes. He watches Iron Man’s faceplate slide open and finds Tony’s impossibly smug grin.

“We need to stop meeting like this. People are going to talk, Steve.”

He folds his arms over his chest in response. “Falling for you is an exercise in trust training. That’s the official story.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t stop smiling as his faceplate falls back into place and wraps his arms around Steve to take off again from the tower.


	9. Steve & Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepping for Halloween at the Avengers home.

“Does it have to be candy? I mean, I like chocolate as much as the next kid, but it’s not very good for them. We should give them apples.”

Tony snorted and looked at Steve. “Apples? Nobody gives apples anymore, Cap. People used to hide razors in apples.”

Steve looked affronted. “Who would do a thing like that?”

“I don’t know. Supervillians? It doesn’t matter. No apples, Cap.”

“How about raisins? In the little boxes?” Steve held up a bag from where he stood half-way down the grocery aisle.

“I swear, you’re just pining to have the mansion teepeed, aren’t you?”

“Teepeed?” Steve asked, looking confused.

“Okay, maybe egged. Jesus, Cap, we’re getting candy. We’re not dentists or their parents, so why are you even worrie—” Steve threw the bag of raisin boxes into the basket. “Look who I’m talking to. You know, I shouldn’t even bother. But I’ll be damned if I let the Avenger’s Mansion be the lamest candy house on the street.” Tony grumped, grabbing three mixed bags of treats and tossing them into the basket, too.

“I’m still getting apples.”

“Fine, but you’re eating them.”


	10. Steve-Centric, Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Fear of being buried alive, thoughts of previous near-death experience.
> 
> A battle in a parking garage leaves Steve trapped.
> 
> For terror_scifi's Multi-Fandom Prompt Fest! For the prompt: Taphephobia (fear of the grave, or being buried alive), Avengers. Tony or Steve each seem like shoe-ins for this. Tony/Steve would be awesome.

There was a groan of steel, the crack and crumble of cement, and the ground began moving under Cap's feet. Above, the Hulk gave a savage roar and the structure shifted, cars sliding across the once level parking deck as it warped and buckled and came apart from under Cap. And three more levels above came down with him.  
  
The world around him crashed down to street level, enclosing him in a small pocket of life. He was saved by a the mass of a crushed SUV, as it supported a column from landing over him. All around him was devastated slabs of cement and twisted rebar, shattered glass and compacted cars. He couldn't move, his space was so small. He couldn't if he wanted to, an arm pinned under the mangled frame of a minivan.  
  
He tried taking in a breath, to fill lungs that had emptied moments before on a gasp as the ground swallowed him, only to choke on dust and grit. He coughed, gagged, tears springing to his eyes as he tried to breathe, tried to take in something. His chest tightened and no, no, he couldn't. He couldn't be having an asthma attack now. Not now, with the serum and being under three levels of a collapsed parking garage. They wouldn't be able to get to him in time to help if it really was an attack.  
  
Would they be able to get to him at all? All the way down here, where the metal and cement were so dense he couldn't get a signal from his comm unit. All the way down here, with the garage shifting under the weight of the action above, concrete grinding and crackling, metal squealing in protest. The SUV seemed to creak as it sank lower, the column crumbling around him, filling in slowly like dirt.  
  
So this is what being buried alive was like. He wasn't conscious as the icy water flowed into the airship to freeze him alive, so he didn't know what to expect of a slow, sealed death. But he could barely breathe for the dust and debris, choking for every breath like he was being suffocated in the cold earth. He couldn't move his arm, still pinned, or his legs from where they were tangled with a motorcycle's frame. With his one free hand, he pushed at the cement slab overhead, the bumper of a Volkswagen, and felt nothing give.  
  
God, if they didn't get to him... He'd be crushed. He'd be trapped to die slowly under the rubble.  
  
There's crackle in his ear, the comm unit trying to pick up something, but it's lost as metal screeches and groans a few feet away. They're not so much battling above him as dancing on his grave now, and he can't stop the terrible squeeze in his chest, like the space as already collapsed in around his heart.  
  
More slabs of parking lot and car shift, angry creaking and cracking just with in reach of pulling him under. Another burst of static in his ear, and then, " _\--going! Ju-t a few f--- more!_ "  
  
Concrete on concrete shifts and screams, crumbling in a shower over Cap, making him cough, his throat raw when he gasps for Iron Man, hoping his comm unit wasn't damaged enough that he couldn't be heard. "Tony...!"  
  
" _\--Steve? St--e! Are you okay?_ " The response was becoming clearer by the syllable, and light was starting to filter through a little more as cars and mortar shifted dangerously around him. He could hear Hulk's grunts now, not in the comm unit, but actually close by.  
  
And as the sun shines down through the hazy dust of destruction when Thor lifts a slab from overhead and Iron Man leans into view, his face plate up and dark eyes wide with worry, Cap gives a shaky smile. "I will be..."


	11. Bucky & Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word was getting around back home about some hero on the front lines...

Word was getting around back home about some hero on the front lines, and it made Bucky snort. Even Steve was writing to him about this super soldier poppycock. Fiction was good and fun, but fiction wasn't helping to win the damn war. So when the guys hung around the USO poster of Captain America, laughing at the gaudy uniform, Bucky didn't pay any attention to them. He wasn't going to waste his time when he had more important things on his mind, like surviving. A few weeks later, a comic book surfaced, was passed around by the guys in their tents. Bucky couldn't help but flip through it, thinking about Steve and how he was probably eating the series up. He always liked that kinda stuff, the art and heroics and things like that. He passed by the USO poster again, a new one detailing show dates of when the guy, Captain America, was supposed to hop on stage and do his little song and dance. He was caught for a moment, looking up at the face there for the first time, it felt like. The mask hid quite a bit, but Bucky got a look, a good look at the eyes. If the guy wasn't so damn big, he could have sworn... Nah, it couldn't be...

He got to meet the guy in person. And damned if it wasn't Steve.


	12. Avengers ensemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A symphony on the battlefield.

The whine of charging repulsars sounds something like the draw of a bow across a violin. Cap turns and bashes his shield into the metal frame of a bot with a clash like cymbals. The whistle of arrows overhead fluttered like quick breaths on a flute. The percussion of stomping and fist thumping at an irregular tempo is played by Hulk as he moves about the robotic army. The pounding of Thor's hammer adding bass to the beat. And in the middle of it all, Natasha takes to battle like it's a stage, a deadly ballet against the enemy as her team stands in as her orchestra.


End file.
